


My Son will Come...

by Hatsepsut



Series: Not Your Happy Ending [6]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Drama, Loss, Major character death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut/pseuds/Hatsepsut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leandra's last thoughts as she waits to die...or to be saved, against all hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Son will Come...

_He will come. He will come for me. He will._

It became a mantra, a desperate prayer to push away the fear and despair, the dread this place caused her, the threat of her imminent death.

 _He will come. My beautiful baby boy, with his bright smile and his handsome eyes. He will come. He must_.

A painting hang on the far wall- her own face, and yet not her own. Subtle differences; a slightly weaker chin, a higher brow, a nose that was just an idea too wide to be hers. She drew her eyes forcefully away. It gave her chills, just like this dismal place did. Just like the light that had come into the eyes of the man that had brought her here while he was gazing at it did. That half-crazed, adoring look  that might have been adorable if madness didn’t lurk behind it like a feral beast.

She swallowed heavily, trying to settle the nausea rolling in her stomach and the bile rising to her throat. The man she had met so briefly, that had charmed her so effortlessly, had just sat there, stars in his love-sick eyes, drinking his tea in the most civilized manner, and told her of his ‘research’ and what he planned to do with her. Her eyes had been focused on that pinkie raised as he held his cup, thinking inanely how someone who appeared so...so refined could really be a monster in disguise. It made her sick to imagine it now, how he had prowled the streets all these years, sizing up every woman he met to find the...missing parts of _her_. Had he measured every woman’s body like a butcher does his meat all these years? Had he looked at the offered hands of women with cold calculation in his eyes?

Had he rejoiced to see her face because it could be peeled off to take the place of _her_ face?

She shuddered wildly, repulsed down to her toes, and with strength renewed out of fear she tried the bonds holding her down on the sturdy wooden armchair again. It was no use. She was nothing but a frail old woman. She could not escape.

But her son would come. Her Gabriel would burst through that door any minute now, striding in with that commanding gait of his, smile brightly enough to shame the sun and hold her in his strong arms, cracking a lame joke to take her fear away. He would cut her bonds away, her charismatic baby boy that had grown to be such a strong man, and help her to her feet. And then...then he’d teach that monster what it felt like to scream and beg in terror until your voice gave up on you. A little malicious wave or rightful anger rose inside her. Gabriel would make sure that horrid man never hurt anyone again. He would ruin his plans, she was sure of it.

 _He’ll come. He’s on his way already, I’m sure if it_ , she desperately thought, trying to convince herself, trying to calm herself, using the image of her son as a buffer against the terror of this dreary place, where even the stench of death and madness permeated the air, where even the walls seemed to bleed with the memory of past suffering. The very air around her seemed heavy and stifling, as if a scream of terror and pain was still echoing- it pressed down on her, making her every breath laboured.

_Gabriel will come. He’s on his way. Hush, you stupid woman. Your son won’t let you die._

She tried to focus away of those dismal thoughts, another shudder wracking her. Gathering her strength, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to think of times past, of happier memories, trying desperately to make her heart beat like something that didn't resemble the heart of a scared, trapped bird. Memories and recollections came flooding in: the sunshine filtering through the high windows of the Amell mansion, illuminating her mother’s gentle face as she bent over her embroidery, a halo of light around her head. Her brother’s antics, that frustrated her parents but always made her smile. Her first formal ball, a silk gown that flowed on her body like water sweeping down to the floor. The first time she raised startled eyes to the face of the young man that would later become her husband, and his bright smile as he helped her to her feet, she herself blushing wildly after the tumble she had taken down the Chantry stairs.  Their first kiss, so sweet, so hesitant. The first time she had snuck away in the middle of the night to be with him, her fear and excitement and the giddiness of new love.

The first time she had realised she couldn’t possibly live without her dashing mage, and the breathless ‘yes’ that had just fallen out of her mouth when he had asked her to run away with him. Their first night sleeping under the stars together, him free for the first time and her almost petrified with fear, almost broken-hearted with her parents’ rejection- and not really giving a damn as long as she had Malcolm’s love.

Gabriel’s first indignant cries after hours of excruciating pain, and the first time she had laid eyes on the miracle their love had created. A little smile curled her lips as she remembered, as the memory of that ridiculous tuft of dark hair that was sticking straight up on his little head flooded her mind. And then he had opened his eyes and she had gasped, because she had never seen eyes that pale on another human being before, so milky gray that for a moment she had been afraid her baby had been born blind.

The smile widened a little on her face, despite the fear that was still crippling her as she continued to remember- Gabriel’s first toothless smile, and those adorable dimples she had fallen immediately in love with bracketing his rosebud mouth.

Kisses of an angel, Malcolm had said, laying a kiss on their son’s head.

Her twins being born, her tiny babies, barely larger than the trembling hands that Malcolm had put out to hold them as they came out into the world, one by one, minutes apart. Her rebellious little Carver and her beautiful Bethany...but no. She would not think of the children she had lost, not here, not now. She couldn’t- she had to be strong. Her one remaining child would come through this door any minute now, and she had to show him she was strong, she had to make him proud, like he had since the day he had been born.

But memory didn't obey rules, and once that portal had been opened other memories flooded in, the sweet ones mixing with the bitter ones, creating a maelstrom of emotion that threatened to make her break down and start sobbing. Carver- so handsome, so mulish and stubborn, so resentful of a big brother he both adored and begrudged for always being so effortlessly, instinctively loveable. Gabriel ruffling his hair with a fond smile on his face and calling him a pest. The fights and the sibling rivalry, the shouting and the scowling mixed in with memories of Carver trailing his brother like a puppy and begging him to play ball. Bethany running her hand through Gabriel’s hair and telling him to smile for her, because she was feeling sad after having to leave another house in the middle of the night to protect her- and nothing could lift her spirits like one of Gabriel’s smiles.

Her tender-hearted, soft-spoken little girl...so brave and so afraid. So near and so out of her reach. Just a stone throw’s away from them, and they couldn’t see her, couldn’t hold her- her baby girl, locked in a prison, away from the sunshine she loved so much.

Carver...her brave baby boy, so recklessly throwing himself in front of that monstrous ogre to protect her life. A trail of blood marring his handsome face as he lay broken on the ground...Gabriel’s gray eyes darkening to a stormy gray with pain as she- his own mother- had turned to him and accused him of being responsible.

A gasp escaped her. She would never forgive herself for lashing out in her pain like that, for the anguish that had widened her son’s eyes at her words, for the way his head had lowered with regret. And yet, her boy had never blamed her for it, never held it against her. He had picked himself up, running his hand through his baby brother’s hair for the last time, and did what he had to do to keep them all safe, with a smile on his face. It was a bitter, fake smile, but he’d stubbornly kept it up, had ruthlessly pushed them all forward, cracking jokes to make his sister smile.

If her son came- when he came, she would beg his forgiveness, she decided at that instance, she would get on her knees and plead with him to forgive her. What kind of a mother was she, heaping all that guilt on her son’s shoulders, not even acknowledging everything her son had done to make her happy? She had even blamed Bethany’s imprisonment on him, even thought he hadn’t taken his sister to the Deep Roads after her own insistence.

When her son got here...

“It is time, Leandra,” a cold voice echoed behind her, freezing her with dread.

* * *

The next time she opened her eyes, she was dying. She knew it, even before the mage in her son’s party softly explained that there was nothing he could do, that it was Quentin’s magic that was keeping her alive. Her body...was not her own, which was a blessing, as she felt no pain, nothing but the pull of the other side on her fragmented  soul.

She blinked the fogginess in her eyes away, to see her son’s bloodstained face, his gray eyes impossibly wide with dread and pain.

“Mother,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh, mama...”

“I knew you would come,” she rasped, a voice not quite her own coming out of the patchwork of bodies her head was attached to.

“Don’t I always?” Gabriel tried to offer her a tremulous smile. “Don’t move mama, we’ll find a way...”

“Don’t fret darling.” She wished she could control her borrowed arms to caress his face. “That man would have kept me here forever. At least now I’ll be free. I’ll get to see Carver again...and your father.”

A wildly trembling hand swiped at the tears running down her son’s face, before his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close. “Tell them I miss them. Smack that pest upside the head for me.”

“My little boy...” she choked, the call of the fade even stronger now, like invisible hands that were pulling her away. “My baby boy has become so strong. I love you, Gabriel. I have always been _so_ proud of you. You’ll be all alone now...that’s my only regret.”

A kiss on her brow. “Don’t worry about me, mama. I’ll be fine.”

“Smile for me.”

A bright smile, although fake, his dimples flashing, while tears made his gray eyes shine like mercury.

It was the last thing she saw, and her last thought was that...it was a good way to go.


End file.
